


work a little less, play a little more (that's what this day is for)

by tamxiety



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: College AU, F/F, Spring Break, alcohol tw, blood tw, everyone is very drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3632622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamxiety/pseuds/tamxiety
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the 'we're both in the laundry place and there's blood on you clothes wtf' AU/college AU</p><p>“Oh my God, is that blood?” The question slipped out before Clarke could stop herself. The girl whipped around and glared, mouth opened to deliver some kind of scathing comeback. But when their eyes met, her jaw dropped. The bloody clothes. The curly hair. The tattoos.<br/>“Oh,” Clarke gasped, “Oh, oh, shit.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	work a little less, play a little more (that's what this day is for)

**10:30am Sunday**

At least the laundry room was quiet. The endless noise of the lobby made Clarke’s already substantial hangover that much more unbearable. Disgruntled golfers, rowdy college students, and parents who had little control over their children all moved in packs around the large space, laughing, shouting, and generally making unnecessary noise. The continental breakfast line had been dwindling off enough to close the big bay doors as people returned to their hotel rooms to get a head start on their day.

Clarke’s stomach growled. She’d missed breakfast due the pounding in her head and her inability to keep any kind of food down. Now, even the distant smell of bacon was making her mouth water. She didn’t even have an idea of which of her friends had made it to breakfast or who was still passed out in their rooms. Last she’d seen, Raven was completely unconscious in a haphazard nest of white sheets in their room.

As for the others, her memory on where they had gone after the night before was spotty at best. They had all arrived at the beach attached to the hotel’s property just as the sun was going down and there had been drinks. Lots and lot of drinks. Things got a little fuzzy after that.

Clarke sighed. She was hungry, hungover, and being forced to wait for the lobby to clear out just to scavenge for some food. The pounding next to her temple was keeping time with the quiet tick of the clock on the wall. She closed her eyes and tried to find some solace in the fact that she hadn’t thrown up all over the ground yet.

That little bubble of quiet was quickly broken, however, by the sudden rush of lobby chatter that invaded the room when the thick door was thrown open with a hefty amount of force. A girl, probably Clarke’s age, stormed into the laundry room with a grimace that Clarke felt in her very soul. Her hair was a mess, she had mismatched flip flops on, and her outfit seemed to consist of men’s boardshorts that were too big to belong to her and a black bikini top. What looked like face paint was smeared all across her cheeks and under her eyes in a painting of wild smudges and the tattoo winding around her arm had angry red scratches on it. A bundle of clothes was clutched in her right hand while the left one reached back to slam the door behind her.

Obviously, she was on a mission. The girl strode quickly over to the only working washing machine and starting digging around in her pockets for change. The bundle of the clothes got jammed underneath her armpit as she struggled to reach to the bottom of the short’s pockets. Clarke squinted at the girl. She was trying to put together why she seemed so familiar when her eyes fell on the red splotches covering the clothes under the girl’s arm.

“Oh my God, is that blood?” The question slipped out before Clarke could stop herself. The girl whipped around and glared, mouth opened to deliver some kind of scathing comeback. But when their eyes met, her jaw dropped. The bloody clothes. The curly hair. The tattoos.

“Wait,” The girl said, rubbing the bridge of her nose and pointing at Clarke, the bloody clothes were still tucked under her arm. Fuzzy memories were slowly floating to the surface of Clarke’s mind. She put a hand to her forehead and blew out a breath. The beach. The party. This girl. She glanced at her again.

“Oh,” Clarke gasped, “Oh, oh, shit.”

**2:00pm Saturday (20 hours before)**

Two days into spring break and this was the first time Clarke had actually relaxed. The poolside of the Embassy Suites at Cancún had called to her as soon as she’d stepped foot through the glass doors.

It had been a long, stressful road just to get to Cancún, let alone the hotel. First, they’d been held up at the airport when Murphy attempted to get through security with a switchblade in her backpack. Then, on the plane, Bellamy and Lincoln had spent twenty minutes trying to jam Octavia’s over-packed suitcase into the overhead bin. Finally, to culminate the experience, their rental car had been nonexistent, so Raven had spent half an hour arguing in Spanish with the attendant while Octavia salivated over the sports cars and Murphy filed his nails with the switchblade he somehow managed to keep. She didn’t even want to think about Monty and Jasper’s plans to find as many illegal substances as possible and smuggle them home.

No, now was the time to sit back, read her book, and relax. The sound of waves crashing against the expansive beach that sat a few hundred yards away was an excellent backdrop to an otherwise quiet afternoon. If she was lucky, she might get a tan and not burn her skin to a crisp. The seagulls wheeling around the air weren’t even squawking.

The creak of plastic next to her dragged her attention from the page. Lincoln plopped down in the lounge chair next to her, shirtless with a goofy smile. His red baseball cap shaded his eyes but the skin around them crinkled up pleasantly. He waited from her to fold her page before speaking.

“So, I’m sure you can guess why I’m here.”

“They want to convince me to do something and they sent you because they know I might actually listen to a mature human being.”

“Something like that.” His smiled deepened. Lincoln and Clarke had always gotten along surprisingly well. They weren’t loud about it, but sometimes they would exchange weary but affectionate glances over the heads of their friends, bonded by the fact that they had broken up too many bar fights together.

“What is it?” If rental segways were involved in any capacity, she was out. The last time had been too traumatic to repeat.

“Octavia found out that there’s going to be a party on the beach tonight.”

“Oh, and we’re going?”

“Yeah, but Octavia thought you might resist.” He shrugged his shoulders sympathetically. Out of all of them, Lincoln understood Clarke’s desire to relax. She was pre-med and he was pre-physical therapy, so they shared a few pretty intense classes back home. But still, Clarke felt that her boring reputation was unjust.

“Hey, I’m fun! I like parties!” She huffed.

“I know you’re fun. Octavia’s just double checking.”

“Well, I’ll go. Maybe some dancing will help me unwind.”

“Great,” He said as he stood, “I’ll tell her when she gets back from the arcade with Bellamy. We’re meeting in the lobby at 6:00.”

“Okay, I’ll probably see you before then, though.” Clarke called as he walked back towards the outdoor bar. He threw up a peace sign and took a deep bow before turning on his heel. She shook her head at him before turning back to her book. A little tingle of excitement wormed its way through her at the prospect of the party.

Unfortunately, that excitement meant fifteen minutes of reading the same line over and over and over again. She let her book flop onto her chest. A few people were milling around the poolside. There was one mother guiding her daughter across the shallow end, a dad hefting two twins into the water head first, and a group of three college kids. The college kids were clustered in a group talking, one mountain of a bearded guy delivering some kind of speech.

Clarke watched them for a moment, until movement caught the corner of her eye. A girl, clad in only a black bikini with her hair intricately braided, was walking towards the group. When she arrived, the big guy clapped her on the back and laughed loudly. The girl said something to the group and a wave agreement seemed to go around the four of them. Clarke watched them talk. The brunette was hot, she could see her abs from all the way across the pool deck. Clarke felt her cheeks heat up. She was checking out some stranger from across a pool. How far she’d fallen.

It was at that moment that the girl caught Clarke’s eye. Blush doubling, she scrambled to flick her book back up in front of her face, praying to high heaven that she hadn’t noticed. A few minutes passed before Clarke felt safe enough to peek around the book. She was strangely disappointed to notice that the girl and her friends were gone, leaving Clarke alone with the children and their parents. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be able to embarrass herself any further at the party later that night.

**6:09pm Saturday**

“If they don’t show up in two seconds, I’m leaving without them.” Murphy grumbled from his spot leaning against the wall in the lobby. He sighed for what had to be the thousandth time and threw a bored glare at Clarke, as if it were her fault that Monty and Jasper couldn’t show up somewhere on time to save their lives. Raven groaned unhelpfully from her seat on the lobby floor. She leaned back at snapped a picture of Murphy flipping off the camera.

“Nice, Murph.” He rolled his eyes at her and adjusted the douchebag rave sunglasses that sat on his head.

“I hope you got my good side.” He drawled lazily.

“None of your sides are good.” Octavia called from her position laying over Bellamy’s back while he thumb wrestled furiously with Lincoln at on of the lobby tables. Both of their arms were strained with the effort. Bellamy’s hair was still salty and wild from his afternoon swim and he kept having to flick it out of his eyes to focus on Lincoln’s maneuvers. Small grunts of exertion were coming from the both of them.

“I’m gonna win this one, buddy.” Bellamy muttered. He twisted his hand violently, but Lincoln held firm.

“Not a chance in hell.” Lincoln chuckled. He nodded quickly to Octavia, who immediately reached down and started tickling Bellamy’s bare sides. He jumped at the sudden attack, leaving him vulnerable enough for a pin from Lincoln.

“Seven, eight, nine, ten! You’re out, bro!” Octavia yelled as she pounded out a countdown on the table. With an indignant huff, Bellamy fell back against his chair.

“That was cheating.”

“No, that was strategy.” She raised Lincoln’s hand in the air, crowing triumphantly. Bellamy folded his arms with a scolding frown, but both his sister and her boyfriend ignored him in favor of doing a chest bump. Clarke walked over and offered him a pat on the shoulder.

“You were up against tough odds.” She ruffled his hair with a smile. The frown went away, but he kept his arms crossed. His grey tank top had been skewed during the battle so that it was half across his chest.

“This shirts and shoes rule sucks.” He said as he adjusted it. Clarke raised her eyebrows at him.

“That tank top it cut down to your hip. It’s barely a shirt as it is.” Granted, none of them were really obeying the hotel dress code. Lincoln was wearing the same shirt as Bellamy, just in red, Murphy was wearing a black t-shirt with more holes in it than fabric, Raven had on a white lace crop top over her bathing suit, and Octavia was just wearing her bikini top. Clarke herself had on her favorite white and blue anchor bathing suit, a pair of jean shorts, and halter tank top. But, hey, it was spring break.

Bellamy opened his mouth to say something, but got distracted by a commotion behind Clarke. She turned around to see Jasper (wearing a bucket hat of all things) and Monty come rushing out of the elevator. Jasper weaved through a group of senior citizens in his haste to get to their friends, Monty following behind him and giving apologetic smiles to the disgruntled old ladies.

“Sorry.” Jasper rushed out. Monty came up behind him much more calmly and moved to stand next to Clarke. She leaned her ear close to him.

“He spent fifteen minutes trying to decide on whether to wear his Party Animal flip flops or his camo ones. He said he wanted to ‘look like an eligible bachelor’.” He whispered. Clarke covered her mouth to hide her laugh. That kind of tunnel vision could only be found in Jasper. Sometimes she felt bad for Monty having to deal with his friends antics.

“Next time, Jasper, wait for all of us to drop dead before you show up. Then we won’t have to look at that ugly hat.” Jasper put an affront hand over his heart and fixed Murphy with a mock-hurt stare. Raven got up and shoved Jasper backward with a smirk.

“Don’t look offended, that’s a horrendous hat.” She said, flicking the brim with her finger. Jasper again looked supremely offended and Clarke felt Monty sigh in exasperation next to her. She bumped his shoulder and stepped forward.

“Are we ready to go?” They all scrambled up at the question. The boys were first out the doors to the pool deck, Octavia piggybacking on Lincoln. Raven and Clarke took a more leisurely stroll, but they kept up.

“You ready to get wild?” Raven asked. She skipped ahead a few feet and turned to wave her hands at Clarke. The low thump of music could just barely be heard from where they were, but Raven still shimmied her shoulders to the faint beat.

“Come on,” She said when Clarke didn’t answer, reaching out her hands, “We gotta get over him.”

Finn. Finn who wasn’t on this trip because he had left in shame in the aftermath. Finn who had tried to please both of them because he was too much of a pacifist. He’d managed to screw up both relationships, even with his kind eyes and well meaning words. No amount of apologies or promises could undo being unable to be honest.  Clarke was glad that she and Raven had only become closer through the whole ordeal. They had watched Finn fade from their lives together and now they were on escaping their worries together. An unspoken agreement had gone between the two: _We deserve better_.

“I think we already have.” She said, taking Raven’s hand. They danced their way towards the beach, getting more excited as the music got louder. As their feet hit the sand, they were confronted with hundreds of college students dancing, playing games, and standing around a bonfire on the sand. Lincoln, Octavia, and Murphy were already rushing off to play keep-it-up with a group of kids and a ball near the water. Bellamy, Jasper, and Monty had split off towards the bonfire, stopping briefly at one on the folding tables nestled in the sand to grab cans of beer.

“Wow.” She said, mostly to herself. The sun was setting against the waves and throwing vibrant pinks, oranges, and yellows against it and the partygoers. The water glinted brightly as it swelled and crashed, eating greedily at the shore. Clarke took a quick look behind her and admired the way the sunlight was reflecting off of the glass of the hotel, throwing the colors back out against the sky. The bonfire crackled and snapped to the soundtrack of people talking and laughing. Some country song was bumping out of speakers hidden somewhere in the beach. Clarke could just smelled the adrenaline.

She dragged Raven forward and grabbed a beer out of the nearest sunken cooler. Raven grabbed one too and they clink them together. Clarke tipped her head back and let the alcohol flowed down her throat. It settled warmly in her stomach. She surveyed the mass of bodies with a practiced eye.

“Ready?”

**8:43pm Saturday**

Bellamy was doing handstands for a crowd. Jasper was chasing after a pack of girls. Lincoln and Octavia were playing chicken with another guy and girl. Monty was helping Raven set up a keg stand. Murphy was making out with some girl against a log. Clarke was on her way to very, very drunk. Some guy jostled her from behind, shouting an apology in her ear. He grabbed her shoulders and shouted something at her.

“Do a body shot, dude!” He pointed at a nearby group of people. They had limes, salt, and vodka in their hands. It didn’t take much convincing after that. The stranger led her over, yelling that he had their first volunteer. He handed her a lime and set to work helping the girl with the flowers woven into her hair climb on the folding table. As soon as she was settled, he sprinkled salt across her naval and positioned the shot glass precariously below the girls breasts. The crowd started clapping in time with the music as Clarke took a moment to make sure the girl was fine with everything before settling herself at her stomach. She clasped her hands behind her and leaned down. In one smooth motion, she licked the salt off of the girls heated skin, dragging her tongue all the way up to the shot glass. Amidst the cheers of the group, she wrapped her mouth around the glass and threw her head back. The vodka burned down her throat, forcing Clarke to scrunch up her nose and quickly jam the lime into her mouth to chase the flavor. Wild cheers went up around her as lines for both doing body shots and recieving them were formed.

Clarke cheered with the crowd, eyes falling on someone standing outside of it, closer to the bonfire. Bikini Girl from the pool was staring at her through the shifting wall of people. She had on a white shirt and shorts instead of her bathing suit, but, Christ, Clarke felt her mouth water at the sight of this girl. She was surrounded by dancing people but all Clarke could focus on was the play of the fire light against her hair because it was what dreams were made of.

Two guys attempting to carry each other crashed across her view, blocking the girl from sight. Clarke shoved around them with a grunt of frustration. She had to push around several groups of people to get to the bonfire, but by the time she did, the girl was gone. Clarke spun around, but Black Bikini was nowhere to be found. Vague disappointment flooded through her, but she ignored it.

At this point, someone jammed the volume of the speakers beyond what would get them a noise complaint. A huge yell went up from the whole party as people rushed towards the bonfire to dance. Clarke let herself be swallowed up by the crowd, content to dance with whoever was in front of her now that the vodka was hitting her.

**9:21pm Saturday**

Eventually, Clarke had found Raven and Bellamy dancing. They were both very good dancers, but usually Bellamy required booze to actually pull out his best moves, while Raven just got more...experimental the drunker she got. Currently, they were engaged in a serious dance off with two twins from...somewhere, it didn’t matter. The ending chords of their chosen song were just dying off when a brand new one started blasting out. It was good, just pop enough to dance to, just redneck enough to be drunk to. Clarke was swaying to the beat, singing lyrics that she couldn’t remember learning.

“Hey,” Somebody tapped her on the shoulder. Clarke turned around and found herself face to face with The Girl. She was even hotter up close, doubly now that she had black face paint smeared across her cheeks football-style and a lazy smirk.

‘Hi,” Clarke choked out. She kept swaying, drunk enough to not really care about first impressions, but still feeling her entire torso flush at the sight of this girl.

“I’m Lexa.” Lexa. Lexa, Lexa, Lexa. That was a good name for a girl that looked like she could kill someone with a look.

“I’m Clarke.”

“Nice to meet you, Clarke.” She said.

“You’ve got face paint on.”

“My friends did it.” Lexa shrugged. Clarke danced a little closer to her as the second verse of the song picked up. Whether it was liquid confidence (it was probably liquid confidence) or something else, something in Clarke’s brain decide to sing to Hot Lexa. The first words of the second verse came easy and she sang them out while bobbing up and down to the beat.

_Girl, you know you’re the life of my party_

_You can stay and keep sipping Bacardi_

_Stir it up as we turn on some Marley_

_If you want you can pet on my Harley_

Lexa burst out laughing at the display, but she didn’t turn and run away, so that was a good sign. Clarke took her hands and drew her deeper into the crowd, coaxing not one, not two, but three different dances moves out of her new companion.

Bellamy and Raven eventually found them and the four of them bobbed and jumped as best as they could in the sand. A few more people wandered over and joined their circle. But before a good group rhythm could be found, boy with a bandana sprinted past them sniping people with a water gun. A girl screeched when she was hit on the stomach by a cold burst of seawater. Sand kicked up everywhere as people scrambled to get away from their attacker. Clarke and Lexa gracelessly took off across the uneven ground, laughing at the screams on the less fortunate behind them.

**9:45pm Saturday**

 

“Are you on spring break too?”

“Yeah. My friends told me I needed to unwind.”

“Me too.”

**10:15pm Saturday**

Missing: One of Clarke’s flip flops.

Found: Monty and a new guy dancing like the rent was due.

**10:57pm Saturday**

 

“Have you ever really looked at the stars?” Lexa asked her. They were sitting against one of the logs, looking up at the smokey, starry sky. Foreign constellations blinked back at Clarke reminding her of just how far away from home she was. She considered Lexa’s question.

“I don’t know.” That was the honest answer. Clarke had never spent much time looking up and on the few occasions that she did, she’d imagined herself walking among them. But the real world always brought those daydreams to a halt.

“I look at them a lot.” Lexa offered. She pointed upward at a faint little blue star that stay just above the horizon. Clarke followed her finger, sipping on her drink. The star was barely visible through the fire light.

“They are always exploding, you know? That’s why we can see them.”

“Kinda like people then? The explosive ones catch your eye.” Clarke tilted her head. Lexa’s eyes were burning like the constellations in the fire light. She looked like the kind of girl you could only find in a storybook, with her golden skin and soft, curly hair. Clarke knew she was staring, but she just couldn’t help it. Lexa the glowing sky in front of them to shame.

“Yeah, you could say that.” Their gazes locked and Clarke felt her breath catch in her throat. A shallow gulp of air rattled in Lexa’s throat. She leaned forward slightly, eyes flicking between Clarke’s lips and equally hungry stare.

“Hey, can either of you guys play flip cup?” A girl with a huge collection of Mardi Gras beads around her neck stumbled across the sand towards them. She gestured excitedly at the table being set up a few yards away. Clarke opened her mouth several times but no sound came out. She turned back to Lexa, who had already put a respectable distance between them. Unless the fire light was fooling her, it looked like she had a deep blush rushing across her cheeks and collarbone.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Lexa said, dusting sand off of her legs. She glanced down at Clarke and sheepishly offered her a hand. Clarke took it will a small smile and allowed herself to be lead away from the log.

**11:34pm Saturday**

 

Lexa was really, really good at flip cup. She and Clarke had been the undisputed flip cup champions for the past twenty minutes. Many teams had tried to beat them, but Lexa had scary intense focus when it came to winning. It was sexy.

Currently, she was leaning against Clarke, laughing in her ear. They had just sent off the twins that had danced with Bellamy and Raven with a handy beating. Lexa had a few fingers tucked into the back pocket of Clarke’s shorts, but she wasn’t about to complain.

“Hey, easy, don’t get sand in the beer.” Clarke called to two kids who were chasing each other around and throwing sand in the air.The party was still raging around them, but a little bubble had been formed around the flip cup table. A few people stood around the table, calling to anyone who walked by to challenge the undefeated Team Clexa to a flip cup game. So far, none had been takers.

It took a guy with thickly styled dark hair and his ginger friend to swagger over to the table to get a game going. The two guys rolled their eyes and scoffed when they saw their competition.

“Dude, we aren’t gonna lose to two girls.” The dark haired one laughed.

“No way, bro.” They highfived and cracked their knuckles in unison. Lexa pulled back to survey their challengers and Clarke wanted to cry out at the loss of warmth. She followed as if on a tether and noticed new cups were being set up on the table. Lexa had her palms down flat against the surface with a determined, if very drunk, look on her face.

“Hey, Clarke?”

“Yeah?”

“If we win this I think you owe me a prize.” Lexa turned to look at her. Her gaze was heated, and if Clarke wasn’t already sweating, she sure as hell would’ve been now.

“I don’t have a prize to give you, though.”

“I’ll pick one.” With that, Lexa turned and squared up against their opponents. The two guys made a show of flexing their muscles and leering at them before the dark haired one stepped up to go first. Lexa met him toe to toe at the foot of the table. They glared at each other for a moment before he looked over Lexa’s head at Clarke.

“Hey, when I win this, it’s you and me blondie. All night long.” His smile was scummy as his haircut. Clarke curled a lip at him. Lexa growled and shove him to his side of the table. The lanky kid who had appointed himself referee positioned himself between the two and raised his hands in the start position. With one final glare, Lexa and Doucheface settled in.

“Ready...go!” The kid shouted and they were off. Lexa went at it methodically: drink, breathe, flip, drink, breathe, flip.  Doucheface had a less elegant approach, but he was still keeping in time with Lexa. They were down to the final cup when he flipped his and it teetered on the very edge of the table. Clarke held her breath for the split second as Lexa also flipped her cup. Doucheface’s was still wobbling when Lexa’s made a clean landing. Clarke threw up her hands and cheered, delighted with the angry red coloring Doucheface was taking on.

“You did it!” She laughed as Lexa threw her arms around her. The smell of alcohol on them both was almost overpowering, but Clarke endured it in favor of being surrounded by Lexa and tracing her fingers up and down the tattoos on her arm.

“So,” Lexa started, pulling back briefly, “My prize.”

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Lexa’s eyes had become very dark in the bonfire light. Clarke looked up at her and felt her mouth dry up. She reached a handed up to try and fix some of the face paint that had been smudged during the night. Lexa kept their eyes locked as she did it. Her arms snaked up and around Clarke’s back, playing lightly with the strings of her bikini.

“M’gonna kiss you now.” She whispered before leaning down and hungrily attacking Clarke’s waiting mouth. It was messy and hot and there was a lot of tongue for a first kiss, but Clarke was so far gone in it that she just couldn’t care. Lexa tasted like beer and salt, vodka and limes. Everything about her made Clarke burn. A hand tangled in her hair and its partner slide back down in her back pocket. A quiet whimper forced its way out of Lexa’s mouth when Clarke pushed further into her, knocking their hips together and dragging her nails down a tattooed bicep.

A hard shove on Lexa’s back knocked her forward, throwing Clarke backwards into the sand. She landed with a soft thump, head spinning. When her eyesight steadied, she saw Doucheface and Lexa arguing furiously near the table. They were right up in each other's faces, shoving and yelling.

“You bitch! You and your fucking bitch girlfriend cheated! My cup was on the table first!” Doucheface was getting aggressive, but Lexa didn’t seem to be the least bit worried about him. No, Lexa just looked pissed.

“You just knocked her over,” She growled, “Apologize.”

“I’m not apologizing to either of you bitches!” He pushed Lexa again. A worried crowd started to gather around their fight. Clarke noticed Lincoln, Octavia, and Lexa’s big friend from the pool all looking concerned at the front of the crowd.

“You will apologize, or I will break your fucking face.” A chorus of ooohs came up from the crowd. It only egged Lexa on. She started advancing on the guy, backing him up against the table.

“If I ever see you within twenty feet of her again, I’m going to use your two-inch needledick to poke out your eyes.” Anger flashed in the guy’s eyes. He roared at the insult and lunged towards Lexa. She caught one of his hands and shoved him back, but not before he managed to land a solid blow to her shoulder.  The punch didn’t seem to hurt Lexa but it caused chaos erupt in the crowd as people rushed forward to either join or prevent the fight.

In the flurry of activity, Clarke saw Lexa wind up and pull her fist back. The punch she then delivered was so hard it snapped the guy’s head back. A bright right spurt of blood exploded from his nose and splashed against the white of Lexa’s shirt and shorts, thoroughly staining both. He fell back with a yelp and scrambled across the sand on his back. His ginger friend dragged him off the ground and together they booked it across the beach. Lexa made to go after them but her big friend grabbed her around the middle and started to drag her away. People were shouting and running around and soon Clarke lost sight of where Lexa had gone. She tried to push through the crowd but everyone was just too drunk and too riled up to be helpful.

When she finally did get to the other side, Lincoln, Octavia, Bellamy, and Raven were all standing there waiting for her. Raven could barely stand and was leaning against Bellamy for support. Octavia and Lincoln were almost as bad and Bellamy had a glazed look in his eyes. He motioned for Clarke to come over.

“We should get going. You can’t even stand.”

“But what about--”

“Monty and Jasper are fine, they already went back. Murphy went back with some girl.”

“No, I meant--”

“Clarke, come on,” Raven slurred, “I wanna go to sleep.”

“Uh,” Clarke mumbled, trying to pick Lexa out of the crowd. Her vision was swimming and it was too dark to really make out anyone’s features. Lexa was nowhere to be seen. A pit of longing is bottoming out Clarke’s stomach, but she squashed it. Nausea was quickly taking its place as the worst thing she was feeling.

“Yeah,” She answered, looking back at the party one last time, “Okay, let’s go.”

**12:01am Sunday**

 

She throws up as soon as she gets in the bathroom of their room. Raven follows her shortly after.

**9:06am Sunday**

Raven was passed out still and Clarke can’t remember much of the night before. Her stomach definitely remembers.

**9:12am Sunday**

 

She’d thrown up nothing three times this morning and brushed her teeth four. She needed food.

**10:31am Sunday (1 minute after)**

“Clarke.” Lexa breathed out. She let the bloody clothes drop to the floor. Realization lanced through Clarke’s brain. Oh, oh, oh, it’s The Girl.

“Lexa.” Lexa looks like she’s simultaneously been given a gift and been punched in the throat. She runs a hand through her hair awkwardly and shuffles her feet. Clarke can’t figure out what to say.

“So,” Lexa begins, “Last night...wasn’t a dream.”

“No, no it wasn’t.” Silence hung in the air for a moment. Lexa fidgeted with her fingers, looking anywhere but at Clarke. The bloody clothes remain untouched on the floor.

“Um, you’ve still got...” Clarke gestured helplessly at the face paint smudged across Lexa’s cheeks. A tiny smirk broke up the other girls mask of awkward stoicism. She paced forward a few steps at pointed a finger at Clarke’s face.

“You have some too.” She said quietly.

“What?” Clarke ran a hand across her skin. It came away smudged with black. Yikes.

“Oh,” She said lamely. Her memory of their kiss was becoming less fuzzy by the second. Embarrassment twisted uncomfortably in her stomach. Several different versions of Lexa making up excuses for the night before ran through Clarke’s mind. She prayed that it wouldn’t add any more uncomfortableness situation.

“Listen--”

“I’m sorry I disappeared last night.” Lexa cut her off. Clarke’s eyebrows jerked up in surprise. That was not what she had been expecting.

“Huh?”

“I didn’t want to get dragged away last night. My friend Gustus was just trying to get me out of trouble.” Lexa shrugged her shoulders tightly. She reached down and picked up her clothes, twisting them around in her hands.

“It’s fine. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, this isn’t my blood.”

“I know, I remember what happened.” Clarke smiled a little bit at the wonderful image of the douche’s head snapping back. Lexa returned it nervously and shuffled forward another few inches.

“How much do you remember?” She asked quietly.

“Pretty much everything.”

“Oh,” Lexa was within a foot of Clarke now, “And you don’t, uh, regret anything, do you?”

“No.” Clarke whispered, hope blooming in her chest. Electricity zipped between them. The tick of the clock on the wall was completely drowned out by the sound of her own pulse in her ears. Clarke threw up a mental ‘Fuck it’. If not on spring break, then when the hell else? It was time for her to take what she wanted. Clarke closed the distance between them faster than she had ever moved in her life. Lexa looked surprised for a half second before rushing to meet Clarke in the middle.

This kiss was much more controlled and graceful than their first, but it felt equally as intoxicating. Lexa moaned into Clarke’s mouth and dragged her hands down the back of her shirt. Clarke let her own rove over all of the available skin on Lexa’s body. In the morning, Lexa tasted more like toothpaste than alcohol, but it still was making Clarke’s head spin. She bit down gently on Lexa’s bottom lip dragging out another low moan.

“Hang on.” Lexa growled out. Before Clarke could asked why, Lexa hands were under her thighs, lifting her off the ground. She latched leg’s around Lexa’s waist and let the taller girl walk her back towards the washing machine. As soon as she touched down on the cool surface, Clarke set after the goosebump-covered skin on Lexa’s neck. She kissed up from the joint of her shoulder to just under her ear, savoring each tiny sound of pleasure she got in return. Lexa’s hands roamed under Clarke’s shirt, teasing at her sides with light finger tips. When she couldn’t take it anymore, Clarke reached up to guide Lexa back down to her mouth. There would undoubtedly be huge swathes of face paint smeared on both of them, but both were too far gone to care. Clarke’s fingernails were digging small crescents into the skin at the nape of her neck every time she put more pressure into the kiss. Lexa dragged Clarke closer with a hand every time she did it, making an space between them nonexistent.

A mechanical groan and bump from the washing machine underneath her startled Clarke out of the kiss, loud beeps dragging her back to reality. Both she and Lexa looked down to see the ‘Wash Complete’ sign flashing. A high pitched laugh wiggled its way out of Clarke’s throat.

“Oh my God.” She giggled, hiding her head in the curve of Lexa’s neck. There were black smudges all over it too and that only made her laugh harder.

“I should probably put my stuff in there.” Lexa sighed, like the machine had offended her. She didn’t move to do it immediately though, so Clarke kept their bodies pressed together.

“Why are you wearing guy’s boardshorts?”

“Because my shorts have blood on them and I was too hungover to search for my suitcase. These are Gustus’s.” Now Lexa is laughing too, Clarke could feel the shake of her shoulders. The washing machine kept beeping, the clock on the wall kept ticking, and Clarke couldn’t find it in herself to stop laughing.

“Blood from the guy you punched over me.” She said, pulling back to look Lexa in the eye. An astounding softness was playing in her green eyes and it made Clarke’s heart melt.

“He was an asshole.”

“You probably broke his nose.” There was enough blood on Lexa’s clothes to guess that their friend from the night before was feeling a lot worse than hungover. Lexa rolled her eyes.

“He deserved it.” Clarke nodded in agreement. The washing machine was still beeping underneath her. She let her fingers run through Lexa’s hair one last time before easily pushing her backwards and hopping down.

“Come on, put your clothes in.” She said, pressing a chaste kiss to Lexa’s smudged cheek, “This beeping is doubling my hangover.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lexa caught Clarke around the waist one more time and pulled her in for a kiss. Clarke smiled into the kiss and pushed Lexa back halfheartedly.

“Seriously, Lexa. My head is pounding.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this! The title and song lyrics both come from Florida Georgia Line's 'Sun Daze'


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